Odorants
by Mizuki 23
Summary: Two short stories about what John dislikes about the tube. Rated T for excessive cursing.
1. Odorants

_A.N.: This just popped into my head while I was waiting for the bus - and it just had to be written (for Sherlock). I'm beta-less, so expect mistakes._

* * *

The door slammed close. Sherlock looked up from his lying position on the couch. John just stood there, breathing heavily. Increase heart rate, slight redish face and increased breathing rate. He's angry. John sighed and sat down at his chair. Sherlock looked at him, saying nothing. John stared ahead, before saying:

"Why is it that everybody who leaves the house for just a minute just _has_ to wear a fucking _cloud_ of perfume or cologne smelling like they bloody bathed in it?"

Sherlock fired:

"It seems to be a social norm to wear as much perfume as possible as to not exude other odorants that may be negatively received by their environment. This goes back to-"

"I know _why_! But _why_ do they have to put that much on? And use the tube to go wherever the fucking hell they are going? What's the use of annoying the hell out of everyone within a remote smelling distance?"

Sherlock looked confused, albeit very shortly.

"I suppose this rant was not triggered by only one person?"

" _Obviously_ not. It was a whole _bunch_ of young women wearing the shortest and most revealing outfits possible. That would not have been necessary, as _all_ of them, and when I say _all,_ I mean every single _bloody_ one, smelled like they had been submerged in perfume for _weeks_. You could not have missed them by their exuberant smell _alone_! But the _chatter_!"

Sherlock looked at the ceiling again.

"Boring."

John sighed again.

"I was ranting, Sherlock. I needed that off my chest, because, _boy on a one-way ticket to hell_ , was I _pissed off_ by these obnoxious women. Still am. Either way, you could have just stayed silent - oh, yeah. Never mind. I'll go to my room. Need alone time."

With that he stood up and muttered mostly to himself:

"Screaming like little girls on cocaine... disturbing my hard _fucking_ earned peace.. bloody _kids_ these days..."

With that his door closed and left Sherlock lying on the couch feeling very _bored_ indeed.


	2. Mobiles

The door slammed once again. Sensing a pattern by the sheer force behind that slam alone, Sherlock _knew_ he would be extremely pissed off by the time he arrived at their shared flat. That even a _boring_ person - as Moriarty would phrase it and Sherlock secretly agreed - could have deduced that. John, as he did arrive before Sherlock, was wringing something invisible in his hands, what looked suspiciously like a neck. Sherlock wondered if it really was worth listening to this time, as the last one seemed rather boring and completely non-distractive. But strangely he found himself curious as to what exactly left John's blood boiling like that. He normally was not the type to 'rant', as he had put it, without a good - for him - reason.

Clearly agitated John did not sit down this time and started pacing through their living room. Sherlock was - as per usual when without a case at hand - lying on the couch feeling very bored and without work for his brain, which would probably drive him mad at some point if they did not find something worth looking into. _Nothing_ seemed interesting enough these days to catch his attention which usually meant that a case was just around the corner, and it made him very restless. Because blacking out and deleting everything would be unwise as he didn't want to miss a case because of that. That's why he was - _desperately_ as Mycroft would have put it - curious as to what had happened this time.

"You know what, Sherlock? This time you will shut up and just let me talk because if you don't, I have _no_ idea what's going to happen. Understand?" John began.

Sherlock was not a man to humour other people that way, least be spoken to in such manner - but strangely John was the exception to this rule. Or at least he was now. Thus he blinked and said nothing. John looked very surprised at that as if he had expected protest from the other man, or some kind of deduction as to what had happened. Sherlock was amused. It was not like he _could not_ shut up, he just _wouldn't_. Huge difference there. But he knew already that John was coming from the tube after having been grocery shopping, and there was that pattern again. Sherlock shrugged as John still looked at him expectantly and wondered why he never had done that before. The expression on John's face was very amusing indeed. John coughed slightly and then continued:

"Okay, then. Let's start at the beginning." Here he glanced at Sherlock again, but the other continued to stay silent. "I was heading down to the tube minding my own business when it first happened. Have you ever noticed _how many_ people carry around their mobiles and smartphones openly in their hand while _walking_? They are _bloody everywhere_ , standing around waiting for - anything, really, not matter how short the time, holding onto their phones as if their lives depend on it. Not letting go for even one moment. I wonder if they _realise_ how utterly _ridiculous_ that looks. Either way, it's not really my problem when they hold onto their phones _quietly_ , but when they _don't_. Have you ever experienced a carriage full of people where four - and there is no better word for it - retarded youngsters try to outcompete each other while nearly _yelling_ into their phones simultaneously? I know you don't, but _bloody hell_ could I have killed them. I mean, seriously, why? _Why_? It's even worse in the mornings when you just try to stay awaken and people around you start conversations on their phone, very _long_ and very, very _boring_ conversations, that you just want to bang your head against something solid, or more preferably _them_. Because what could be so important that you have to call someone in the mornign while being on the tube for _fucks sake_. Seriously."

Sherlock looked up at him and said:

"Ranting seems to be rather useless when you want to use it to _blow off_ steam, if all it actually does, is agitate you even more."

John smiled somewhat reluctantly.

"It does blow off steam. It's like your final wave of anger rises again as you tell _another_ person what's bothering you and afterwards you feel remarkably better."

Sherlock nearly turned around on his couch again, feeling the conversation was over, when he heard Ms. Hudson shuffling about to open the door. A grin spread across his face. John rolled his eyes, but still seemed to be more relaxed now then when he had entered the flat.

Sherlock's grin widened considerably after he discovered what exactly this new case was about.

 _Finally._

* * *

 _For some reason it didn't leave me alone, so I'm back with another chapter. As it felt more like a sequel to Odorants, I didn't post it as a new story._

 _I hope you liked it!_


End file.
